I just watched all of Mr Presidents admin bust their asses in the hallway that totally isn’t soaked from me tracking rain inside… they deserved it, they’ve been very rude to me recently.
Sorry.. that’s mean of me to laugh about, I should apologize and clean the floors.
You should try putting your feed in a metal tin with a lid. People can still open it, but it's so loud maybe you'll hear em next time. Plus it's better for long lasting storage.👍
Thank you for the idea Mr Tim..
I seriously don’t know who’s climbing the side of the White House to eat my bird feed! I think I’ll ask Mr President to install cameras so I can catch them next time.
I am already back from Italy. I am happy that it rained the whole day.. I was worried it’d stop and I’d get hurt (again).
I have delivered a letter to a mafia boss by Mr Presidents request and was able to buy Italian bird feed! I hope my doves enjoy it. It was very expensive..
I've been obsessed with your Gyro story ❣️ and if you take requests, can I ask for one where the reader twists their ankle and Gyro takes care of them?
Sorry, I hope that makes sense, I used translator lol
„IN GOOD HANDS”
synopsis: reader lags behind and is met with an unfortunate encounter with the american wilderness, resulting in an injury.
gyro zeppeli x gn! reader
a/n: my dear anon, thank you for your request, i truly hope, this is what you wished for! for some utmost reason, this took so fucken long to write AND my notes app crashed midway, deleting one dialog in the process ffs. anyway, i enjoy writing gyro so much and actually got an idea for another story, saving me from losing another braincells.
Enjoy!🫀(REQUESTS OPEN)
It all seemed to happen in the blink of an eye. The sudden thickening of the unmerciful cold air, threading through the murky grove should’ve been the first sign. When the local birds no longer chirped you couldn’t tell if your heart was beating slower from hyper-awareness or fast from the sudden load of adrenaline.
Your eyes dropped to the horse’s ears pointing sharply towards, like guard soldiers stilled upright. A few shifts on their feet made the oiled leather of the heavy western saddle creak softly, while their nostrils flared, sending a few capricious snorts into the night.
“Easy there…” you coo softly, tightening your grip on the reins as the horses head raised higher, suddenly piercing their gaze amid the lanky trees of the grove.
Almost unnoticeable, a ruffle of a bush resonated too close to comfort to you and your horse.
A pair of sharp canine eyes tracking your every move from behind the shrub with an eerie silence.
The very next moment you swore your heart sank to your ass—
High pitched yips and laughs reverberated around you, almost sounding mockingly. Coyotes.
Your horse reacted faster than you, hoofs spurring dust around as they reversed back quickly. Leaves started to rustle alongside with creeping calculatedly closer, like an assassin covered by the shadows of their cape.
As much as your horse was reliable, everyone has their limits, and this is where theirs were exceed. The sudden rear sent you straight onto the ground, making everything black out for solid few seconds, before your eyes were frantically blinking, trying to quickly orient and scramble to your feet.
But you couldn’t.
You couldn’t without being met with a blunt ache in your ankle, making you abruptly hiss and furrow your brows. Well damn. At least from the commotion that has been quietly brewing and now loudly overflowing, the coyotes had shied away from you two.
The horse makes a move that almost looks like a little dance, they’re unnerved. You sigh and rub your face with the palms of your hand. No one in sight. Not the quiet blond, and certainly no italian quipster. A whine of upset desperation almost passes past your lips but you swallow it.
“Woah, it’s all right…we need to get going,” you rasp out reassuringly and quietly as you wobble to your horse, managing to snatch the reins and reaching out your hand towards their nose, letting them capture your scent. The other hand’s fingers tangle in their long mane as you lean your forehead against their muscular neck with a tired sigh. You glance down at your ankle, your left fucking ankle, coming to terms with not being able to mount from the usual left side.
Pulling away from the horse, you stumble around them, taking a deep breath as you swing yourself up into the saddle with all the meagre remaining strength in your body. The confused horse started walking as soon as your foot was in the stirrup making you curse quietly under your breath, but being the fabulous rider you were, you managed to tune in with the horse seamlessly.
Managing to lose one of your saddlebags on the trail during galloping to find a place to sleep at, you told the guys that you would catch up, just needing to return some feet back to look for your belongings. You could see the hesitancy in Gyro’s eyes, making your heart soften a bit, but they listened, telling you to look for a flame in the boring plains.
Making an absquatulate flee from the spot, the ride back was actually kind of treacherously slow. Unable to go into any other gait than sitting trot or walk, you felt your heart palpating from fatigue but the mind still staying vigilant, making this combination even further tedious for your body.
After what felt like centuries, your silhouette was illuminated by the campfire surrounded by two tents, making the tall wrangler hunched over on the ground with a seemingly worried complexion perk up immediately. You couldn’t help but notice when his green orbs did a full body check of you in under a second and immediately fleeting to you.
“Birbante, where the hell have you been?! Did you lose the saddlebag at the starting line or what?” he babbled while gazing up at you.
“Had a little accident on the way here. Don’t worry, all my limbs are still attached, so far,” you huffed as you carefully dismounted your horse. There was a delay in leading them over to a wooden fence to tie them to keep them at bay. You could sense that he sensed something wasn’t right. Walking like you just had chinese acupuncture on your whole body to the campfire, sitting down with a scared yelp that you quickly muffled by faux cough.
When you angled your foot while sitting in a position that didn’t look exactly twice as comfortable, Johnny, sitting opposite of you, spared Gyro a suspicious look. They we’re basically telecommunicating shamelessly, which spurred exasperation to life inside you.
“Y’know…You have a perfectly good physician sitting ten feet away—“
“I don’t need no physician.” you grumble, boring your eyes straight at the glowing embers surrounded by crackling fire.
“Sure, and my lungs don’t need oxygen. Let me take a look!” his restless form makes its way beside you.
A lineup of complaints were ready to spill out of your moth but died out quickly when you finally paid attention to him. The way the olive skin glistened from the fiery highlights, luscious hair softly curling from being damp before, eyes twinkling with compassion when looking at you made you so incredibly angry for crumbling internally like a house made from cards.
“Give me that foot of yours, Robinson,” motioning with his fingers towards himself.
“That sounds ominous.”
“It’s your ankle, not your dignity,”
and with that he captured your leg with an unexpected gentleness.
Fingers travelled around the following contours of the ankle with practiced precision. He knew the bones beneath his fingertips, the tendons running across them, the ligaments holding the joint together. Then, he pressed that one spot making you flinch.
“There?”
“Y-yeah.”
“And here?”
“Fuc-ow!”
“Good.”
“Good?!
“It means I found where it hurts,” he explained with that stupid soft grin.
“Hello, why is my damn physician a sadist? Get rid off him, Johnny boy—do something, man!” you fretted. A small, hurt pout painting your lips as the swelling started to unfortunately progress, leaving you no choice but to stop neglecting it. The blond splayed next to the fire watched with amusement, looking like he won’t be helping you any sooner.
He takes your other leg, sliding his hand to grab your foot creating a tickling sensation in the process. Noticing as you squirm at that, quietly chuckling under his breath. Comparing the ankles side by side, noting the certainly contrasting structures.
“It’s swollen, but I don’t see any obvious displacement.”
He reaches for his bag, rummaging through it to find a bandage and a menthol ointment stored in some small peculiar tin, with a worn off label at that. Unscrewing the squeaky lid and throwing it somewhere over his shoulder, you watched as the dark of the night captured it. Knowing, that he will complain about not being able to find it soon.
The cooling balm seeped into your skin as his fingertips spread it gently around, making you sigh in relief. Then came the bandage.
“Hold still.”
“I am holding still.”
“You’re fidgeting.”
“Because you’re pulling it too tight.”
Gyro loosens the bandage immediately.
“…Better?” the soft worry made your chest tighten.
“Yes.”
“Tell me if it hurts.”
The night was darker than ever and the fire was weaker, wood crackling mingling with the chanting of bugs living around you in their grass-cities. Johnny was long asleep in his tent, while Gyro had prohibited in trying to set your own tent up, suggesting that you should sleep in his to avoid any further worsening of your injury, of course.
“Comfortable, signor Crusoe?” he snickered, the neapolitan accent finding his way amongst his talking, all while tucking you in his strangely cozy blanket, adjusting the pillow under your head and the one supporting your sprained ankle.
“Stop calling me that.” you huffed, grumpy as you hid under the blankets not even in frustration, just wanting to feel like you were in safe cocooning after a rather hazardous encounter back in the grove.
“You’re actually right, he would’ve handled the situation better.”
And with that you slapped him somewhere, not even bothering opening your eyes.
“Ow!—Okay, Rob is getting pretty hostile,” he complains, rubbing his thigh that has been targeted.
Stretching for the second blanket in the tent, yours, and pulling it over his body before laying next to you. After a beat you wiggled a bit closer, still securely huddled in the makeshift cocoon. A smile crept onto his relaxed features before turning to face you.
Planting the softest kiss on your cheek and then whispering just for you two to hear.
“Sweet dreams, my combinaguai.”
(also, i don’t speak italian, so please don’t pulverize me–)
